


When the Sun Rises

by mikkey_bones



Category: Natsume Yuujinchou | Natsume's Book of Friends
Genre: Case Fic, Friendship, Gen, Holidays, New Year's Eve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-21
Updated: 2012-12-21
Packaged: 2017-11-21 20:00:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/601532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mikkey_bones/pseuds/mikkey_bones
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They say you're supposed to spend New Year's full of joy, doing what you love.  Natori works an exorcism with Natsume; he thinks he could get used to this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When the Sun Rises

**Author's Note:**

  * For [roseargent](https://archiveofourown.org/users/roseargent/gifts).
  * Translation into Русский available: [Когда взойдет солнце](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2512232) by [wakeupinlondon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wakeupinlondon/pseuds/wakeupinlondon)



The shrine is cold in the midwinter darkness.  Natori illuminates his way with a small glowing youkai he has trapped inside a glass bottle; Hiiragi, behind him, holds another one.  The soft, greenish-yellow light is eerie, but much more natural for youkai than the beam of a flashlight.

“Do you see anything?” he asks Hiiragi quietly.  His breath ghosts out before him in the darkness.

“Nothing,” she replies softly.  The youkai-light makes her bone china mask a sickly pale yellow and highlights the crack as a thick black line.

Natori sighs.  Today is New Year's Eve, and the mountain shrine is humming with spiritual power.  That, along with the deep cold, sets his teeth on edge.  He's beginning to doubt whether they're here for any purpose at all.  Ostensibly, this shrine is home to a powerful and dangerous youkai who spends the entire year sleeping, only to wake up on New Year's and create havoc.  The awakening comes in four year cycles.  Four years ago, a different exorcist was charged with the task of baiting the spirit and then sealing it again.  Now, Natori's superiors have assigned him to the job.

“Perhaps he's gone,” Natori says hopefully.   He wants to go back to the hotel room he booked for the night, which has a heater and piles of blankets on top of the futon.

“Perhaps,” Hiiragi says, but in the next moment reaches out to touch Natori's elbow.  “I hear voices,” she whispers.

Natori stops walking and looks around.  There are, indeed, faint voices coming from the tree line.  “Spectators?” he murmurs.

“I will look,” Hiiragi says, and before Natori can stop her, she whisks away.  He sighs, puts gloved hands in his pockets, and waits.  There is some commotion in the bushes, and then a figure appears out of the darkness.

“Natori-san?”

Natori blinks.  It's Natsume.  He should probably be feeling more surprised than he is.  “Good evening, Natsume!” he calls, and waves.  Natsume walks toward him, flanked by Hiiragi and his own familiar, Madara, waddling across the grass.

Natsume is smiling.  “Happy New Year's, Natori-san,” he says.  “I wasn't expecting to see you here.”

“Nor I you,” Natori replies, though that's not quite true.  When he accepted the job he was well aware that the abandoned shrine was part of Natsume's stomping grounds.  And Natsume was attracted to spiritual power like a moth to the flame.  Often, it burned him.  “Why are you out so late?”

Natsume looks around.  “Some youkai came to me yesterday and told me the legend of this place.  They're scared of the spirit that lives here, and they wanted me to protect them.”

“By yourself?” Natori asks, raising an eyebrow.

“I'm glad you're here,” Natsume replies, which answers Natori's question well enough.  Natsume had clearly been expecting to take on this spirit alone – or at least, with the dubious aid of Madara.  And people think that _Natori_ is arrogant.  “I thought I might be seeing an exorcist.  The youkai warned me about that, too.”

“Did they?” Natori asks.  Natsume has a terrible habit of trusting spirits, and the youkai know it; they use his soft heart to get Natsume to do their bidding.  And it often works.

Natsume gives Natori a serious look.  “They are afraid of the exorcists, too,” he says.  “Last year, the exorcist who was here sealed everyone in the area, not just Koguryogami.”

“Koguryogami,” Natori repeats.  A corrupted guardian spirit, then...?

“An old spirit,” Madara speaks up from their feet, in his gravelly voice.  He jumps onto Natsume's back; from there, he claws his way onto Natsume's shoulder.  “He's been here as long as I can remember.  Crotchety.”  He chuckles.

Natori raises his eyebrows.  “I am only here to seal Koguryogami.  Your friends have no need to be afraid.”  He begins to walk back towards the shrine proper, trusting that the others will follow him.  They do.  “And I can do it alone,” he adds, glancing at Natsume.  “It's late; you should go home.”

“I promised I'd be here,” Natsume replies, his tone reinforced with that rock hard determination.  Natsume, he reflects, is like a willow branch – yielding often, but possessing a great underlying strength.  Bending, not breaking.  Stubborn with a smile.

“Very well,” Natori replies with a shrug.  “You can work as my assistant.”  He glances back to catch Natsume's reaction and is glad to see the boy is smiling.  The corners of Natori's mouth lift up in return.  “According to my research,” he continues, stopping once they're directly beneath the gate of the shrine, facing the dilapidated stone temple, “Koguryogami awakens sometime after midnight, when the New Year has begun.”  He checks his watch, the lighted dial glowing faintly in the gleam from his youkai-lantern.  “It's eleven-thirty, now.”

Natsume stands beside him underneath the gate.  “The youkai told me he comes out four years.  Last time... were you the exorcist, Natori-san?”

“The one that sealed all the youkai in the area, too?” Natori asks, glancing sidelong at Natsume.  Four years ago... he might have done something like that, it's true.  “I wasn't here.”

“Oh,” Natsume says, and visibly relaxes.  Natori didn't know he was tense, before.  “I'm glad.”

Part of Natori wants to ask, _Did you really believe that of me_?  But he knows the suspicion is warranted.  No matter how dear Natsume is to him, they are divided by fundamental ideological differences.  And both of them are stubborn in their own ways.  Natori sighs.  “Let's create a protective circle around the area.  When Koguryogami comes out, we will have to contain him before he gathers his full strength.”

Natsume nods.  “I'll go this way,” he says, picking up a fallen stick from the ground and heading to the left, dragging the tip behind him to create a clear line, Madara jumping down to waddle along behind him.  “We can meet in the middle.”

Natori smiles.  It's an unorthodox method, to be sure, but if both of them each draw half of the circle, they'll be able to concentrate their spiritual power more effectively.  He picks up his own stick, and goes the opposite direction, kicking leaves and fallen branches out of the way as he draws, Hiiragi a silent few steps behind him.

Halfway around the small shrine, she speaks.  “Who was the exorcist four years ago?”

Natori shrugs.  “I have no idea,” he replies.  “I've never heard of Koguryogami before.  It might have been one of the Matoba clan...”

“Seiji,” Hiiragi says, her voice low.  There is no love lost between Natori's followers and Matoba Seiji, and with good reason, too.

“Quite possibly,” Natori replies.  “Sealing all the youkai in the area – such a gratuitous display of power, it seems like something he'd do.”  He focuses on making his half of the circle clear and deep, using the stick as a focus to channel his energy.  It's not a difficult task, but he wants to make sure it's done right.

He's looking at the ground and therefore almost runs headfirst into Natsume, who is finishing his own half.  They stop just short of each other, and Natori steps back.  “You do the honors,” he says, gesturing at the small gap between their halves.

“I think you should help, if we want the seal to be really good,” Natsume says.  He holds out his hand.  It's bare and cold.  Natori isn't wearing gloves either; they can easily impede the flow of spiritual power.  He joins hands with Natsume.  Both of their fingers are freezing.  Natsume completes the circle.

“That should do it,” he says, and lets go of Natori's hand.  “Now what?”

“We wait,” Natori says with a sigh, pushing his glasses up further on the bridge of his nose and putting his hands back into his pockets.  “We have ten minutes until midnight.”  He steps carefully into their circle, feeling the barrier ripple around him, and begins walking back to the front of the shrine.

Hiiragi follows.  Natsume scoops up Madara into his arms (an automatic gesture; Madara, though heavy, is probably quite warm) and quickens his pace to catch up with Natori.  “When Koguryogami exits, I'm going to take the lead, because I'm the one who is supposed to be sealing him,” he tells Natsume.  “Don't jump in front of me.  I know it's a bad habit of yours.”

Natsume lets out an amused breath.  “Fair enough, Natori-san,” he replies.

If Natori is honest with himself, self-sacrifice is a bad habit for both of them.  He's gotten worse about it too, especially after meeting Natsume.  Sometimes it's easier to step in front of someone and take their burden on your own shoulders than trust that the other person can handle themselves.  Natsume has more than proved his spiritual aptitude in Natori's presence; still, if they were to be attacked right now, Natori would shove him out of the way and step in front – Natsume would probably attempt the same.

“There is someone else in this circle,” Madara announces from Natsume's arms, as they round the corner of the shrine.  And indeed, underneath the torii, a black-clad figure awaits.

Natori recognizes the long hair, the deliberately relaxed stance.  He stops, holding out his arm to stop Natsume and Hiiragi as well.  “Matoba,” he says under his breath.

Natsume's intake of breath is sharp and silent.  “What should we do?” he asks.  They all have reason to fear this exorcist.

“He's already seen us,” Natori replies.  Matoba's face is turned toward them, blank and shining like a sickly moon in the half-light.  Natori straightens his shoulders and strides forward, Hiiragi a constant and comforting presence at his shoulder.  “Matoba Seiji,” he calls.  “I wasn't expecting to see you.  Are you here for a New Year's Eve party, so you can apologize for the wrongs you caused us this year?”

Matoba laughs.  “Hardly,” he replies.

“Good,” Natori says.  “I wasn't about to forgive you.  How did you get past our barrier?”  The Matoba Clan deals in subtleties, but with Seiji, Natori has learned, the best way to get along is with as bluntly as possible.  Seiji knows there is no love lost between them.  He's the type to hold a deep grudge.  Natori knows that a reckoning is coming to him, someday, but for now he will approach the situation head-on.

“It was not sealed when I entered this place,” Matoba says.  They just missed his arrival, then.  He looks around.  “So is it you who are sealing Koguryogami, Natori?  Or is it this one?”  He turns his gaze to Natsume.

Madara, in Natsume's arms, growls low in his throat.  It's an odd sound, paired with his fat, round body.

“It's me,” Natori said.  “Natsume is my assistant for the evening.  And this is _my_ assignment,” he added, staring Matoba down.  “Why are you here?”

“I thought I would watch,” Matoba replied.  “I wanted to see how this year's exorcist lives up to my legacy.”

So it was Matoba who sealed Koguryogami, four years ago.  Natori clenches his teeth.  Behind him, Hiiragi shifts.  She is preparing for battle.  But they can't waste time with Matoba now.  To seal a spirit as powerful as Koguryogami will take enough of his strength that Natori has none to spare now.  “You can watch outside the circle,” he says firmly, staring Matoba down.

Matoba, arms folded serenely across his chest, tilts his head.  Natori is afraid that the exorcist will argue with him, or worse, attack, but finally, Matoba nods.  “Very well,” he says.  He turns his back and moves serenely away.

“He gives me the creeps,” Natsume says under his breath.  They watch him pause at the barrier.  “I'm not surprised he was the exorcist four years ago.”

Natori isn't surprised either.  He frowns as Matoba appears to trip, dragging his foot against the boundary line–

“No!” Natori shouts, but Matoba is already vanishing into the bushes.  _Damn him!_ The spiritual barrier around them falls with a slight _pop_ he feels in his eardrums just as the shrine bursts open.

“Natori-san!” Natsume says, and something soft and furry hits Natori's back mid-stride.  He tumbles to the ground, and feels something whoosh just over his head in a strong gust of wind.  Sitting up, Natori shoves Madara off his back and clambers to his feet.  “We need to catch him!”

Natsume is already running after the spirit, who appears as a large patch of darkness in the night.  Madara bounds after him, switching to his true form mid-step.  Hiiragi has her sword out, but is waiting for Natori's command.  His first instinct is to run after them, but that is a stupid plan.

“Catch up with Natsume,” Natori tells her.  “Tell him and Madara to chase Koguryogami back here.  I'll set up another circle.”

She nods and springs off into the dark, her youkai-lantern pinpointing her progress like a firefly.

Matoba is gone; Natori can detect none of his spiritual energy in the area.  Certainly, he thinks, a reckoning is owed.  But now he focuses on redrawing the circle where it was broken, repurposing it as a circle of entrapment.  Any youkai entering this space will be unable to leave until the circle is broken.  He gets down on one knee, presses his palm to the joining spot, and seals it.

There's a crashing in the underbrush again.  Natori stands and takes some steps back away from the barrier.  The black beast Koguryogami is coming directly at him.  He touches a string of paper dolls in his pocket; he's ready.

There, behind the beast, are Natsume, Madara, and Hiiragi.  Madara is snapping at the thing's heels.

“Madara, Hiiragi, stay out of the circle!” Natsume calls as Koguryogami places its first paw inside.  Immediately, its limb is engulfed bright blue lightning that draws it forward even as it strains back and howls.

Natsume rushes up beside him as Natori whips out his string of paper dolls.  Animated by his own spiritual power, they fly out to wrap around Koguryogami's muzzle.  Natori keeps hold on the end of the string; he sends a bolt of spiritual energy through the paper and _pulls_.

Koguryogami resists him.  Natori finds himself digging his heels into the ground as he grabs the string of paper dolls with both hands, sending out a steady stream of energy.  But by now he's created two different barriers, one of which was broken and the other of which is faltering with Koguryogami's sustained resistance.  He's faltering.  Hiiragi and Madara, still in his true form, are waiting outside the circle; Madara's tail is lashing back and forth as he crouches, showing his teeth.

Natori closes his eyes.  The world is spinning and his knees are about to buckle... until he feels a firm grip on his shoulder.

“Natsume,” he says, because he forgot about the boy's silent presence behind him.  With Natsume's grip comes a rush of warmth that beats back both the cold and Natori's growing exhaustion.  Natori grits his teeth and gives the chain of paper dolls one last, hard yank, overbalancing Koguryogami and sending him tumbling all the way into the circle.

“Quick,” Natori says, releasing his grip on the chain of paper dolls.  The rest fly to wrap themselves around Koguryogami's muzzle and front legs, pinning him.  Natori takes out the clear crystal he was given to complete the job.  “We need to seal him.”

Natsume steps forward.  Natori has one hand underneath the crystal and one hand on top of it; Natsume places his hands around Natori's.

“Now,” Natori says.  They breathe together.  Natori finds his center, feels the pool of inner calm from where he draws his reserves.  Natsume's energy flows into his hands.  Natori imagines it takes on a light blue color; Natori's own energy is more orange.  The color mingles and turns white as the crystal begins to glow.

Koguryogami is struggling still, and snaps the paper chain that binds his jaw.  But it's too late now – all the youkai can do is roar as the crystal absorbs his essence.

It ends as it begins – with a violent rush of wind.  The crystal, warm in Natori's hands, glows for a moment, then darkens as it cools.  Natori stumbles.

“Are you all right, Natori-san?” Natsume asks.  He catches Natori with an arm around his waist.

“I'm fine,” Natori says, but he allows Natsume to support him as he walks to the shrine and places the crystal inside.  “And the mountain is safe for four more years.”

Natsume smiles.  “Yes,” he agrees.  “In spite of Matoba.”

“Ha,” Natori says.  He will talk to Nanase-san later, and tell her of Seiji's exploits.  She will likely not be pleased.  Despite the Matoba Clan's severity when it comes to exorcisms and the treatments of youkai, even they have their rules – and one of them is to never interfere with another exorcist's work unless bidden by a superior.

(He hopes that Nanase was not behind this mess, as well.)

“We should go back to Hiiragi and Nyanko-sensei,” Natsume says.  Natori realizes that Natsume's arm is still around his waist.  “And remove the barrier.”

Natori straightens and sighs.  “Back to work,” he says.

“Do you have another assignment after this?” Natsume, serious as usual, asks with a worried look.

“No,” Natori says and laughs.  They make their way over to the shrine gate, and he smudges through the barrier circle with his foot.  The sudden release of power makes his ears pop again.  “I have to be in Okinawa on the third, though.  I'm filming a new movie.  An action movie,” he adds with a bit of a grin.

Natsume gives him a skeptical look.  “Aren't you more of a romantic actor?” he asks.

“So that's why you were acting so severe with Matoba,” Madara pipes up.  He has resumed his fat pig-cat form, and he waddles up to sit at their feet, pointing one of his paws at Natori.  “I think the movie business is getting to your head.  It's not good for your health, you know, to be the hero all the time.”

Natori laughs.  “Ah, well...”  Privately, he feels that Madara's advice is directed more towards Natsume than anyone else.  Natsume, whose arm around his waist feels like a comfort to which Natori could quickly become accustomed.  “I can stand on my own now,” he says, and gently steps away.  His knees are a bit wobbly, but his balance has returned to him.

“Oh,” Natsume says.  “Right.”

Hiiragi comes to his side anyway, ready to support him if need be.  Natori looks at her.  “Good job,” he says, after a beat.  He doesn't understand the nature of his relationship with this youkai in particular, but they have become closer over the past year.  “Thank you for your help.”

She ducks her head in acknowledgment of his praise.  Natori wonders if she is blushing behind her mask.

“Well,” Natori says.  Miraculously, his youkai-light is still hanging about his neck, intact.  He uses the faint light to check his watch again.  “It's nearly three o'clock.  This took more time than I thought.”  After years working as an exorcist, he is familiar with the way that time seems to slip away unaccounted for when dealing with youkai.  Still, it's unnerving.

Natsume smiles wanly.  “Thank you for your help,” he says to Natori.  “After seeing Koguryogami, I don't think that I could have sealed him myself.”

Natori isn't so sure.  Natsume's abilities are beyond his own, he knows that much, and with Madara's help... But he doesn't say that out loud.  It's best not to give Natsume ideas.  “I couldn't have sealed him myself either,” he says, smiling at Natsume.  “So thank you.”

Natsume smile grows wider.  He looks pleased – he's always had that savior complex, Natori thinks, with fond exasperation.

“Now it's time for the sunrise!” Madara said, jumping up and down on his stubby legs.  “Sunrise watching party!  Sunrise watching party!”

They both turn their attention to the pig-cat, Natori, with bemusement, Natsume, with fond exasperation.  “It's hours until the sun rises,” he says, and gathers a squirming Madara up into his arms.  “We'll freeze out here.”

“I know a hill in this direction!” Madara says, and wiggles until he falls out of Natsume's arms again.  He begins to march into the distance.

“Natori-san...” Natsume says, looking between him and Madara.

“I'll come,” Natori says with a smile, shoving his hands deeply into his pockets.  “I'm not so cold now, after all that exercise.”  It's mostly true, too, though his ears and toes are freezing.

Natsume smiles back at him, grateful, before hurrying after Madara.  Natori follows at a much more leisurely pace, Hiiragi at his shoulder.

“Master,” she says.  Natori turns slightly to look at her.  “You don't want to get a cold.”

“I won't,” Natori says with confidence.  If he does, he has three days to recover before shooting begins.  And Suzume-san, his makeup artist, has nearly supernatural skill at covering up exhaustion and sickness.

Hiiragi sighs but doesn't argue.  Natori knows she disapproves, but it's been more than two months since he's seen Natsume, and he's heard you're supposed to start out the New Year doing things you want to do, not things you have to do.  It's the day that sets the tone for the rest of the year, after all.  Call him sentimental, but it's better to freeze his toes outside and watch the sun rise with friends than to be warm inside, alone.

When he catches up with Natsume and Madara, they've already found a place on top of a small hill facing east, and Madara, somehow, has procured a bottle of sake around which he's twined himself in order to drink.

Natori settles down into the grass, Hiiragi next to him, and watches the spectacle in some amusement.

“He does this at least once a week,” Natsume, on Madara's other side, says with a sigh.  “He's a tyrant, really.”  He pokes at Madara's fat stomach, eliciting a grunt of protest.

Natori laughs.  “He seems like a handful,” he says.

Natsume meets his eyes and nods, then turns to look at the horizon.  There's a faint glow; soon the sky will turn purple and then gray.  And then the sun will start rising.  “I'm glad it's not snowy,” he says.  There are melting patches under the more shaded areas, but the hills are clear.

“It's been a dry winter,” Natori agrees.

“What boring conversation!” Madara shouts.  The sake is already half gone; Natori doesn't know how he does it.  “Is the cold frying your brains?”

“Wouldn't the cold do the opposite?” Natori asks, and Natsume laughs.

Madara rolls around and drops the sake bottle.  “Silence, human!” he says, and totters to his feet.  Natori raises his eyebrows as Madara resumes his true form with a puff of smoke.  “There,” he says, and before Natori can do anything about it, Madara settles around them and he is enveloped by his warm, furry body.  “You humans are so weak you might freeze to death out here without me.”

Natsume laughs and leans back into Madara's bulk.  Natori, used to dealing with youkai as enemies rather than living blankets, is uncomfortable.  Hiiragi, he notes, is already standing off to the side, looking pointedly towards the east, at the coming sunrise.

“I might fall asleep, Natori-san,” Natsume says as Natori gingerly allows himself to rest against Madara.

“I'm going to fall asleep,” Madara says with a whuffled sigh.  Natori tenses again when he feels Madara's voice vibrating through his body, but slowly leans back again.

“I don't think I'll fall asleep any time soon,” he comments, but softly, and Natsume's eyes are already closed.

So Natori looks to the east, pointing his gaze in the same direction as Hiiragi's, Madara's large body a warm bulk at his back.  The youkai smells like sake, a little, and winter, a lot.  His side rises and falls with each rumbling breath.

Eventually Hiiragi moves closer.  “Are you warm?” she asks.  Natori hears a faint note of disapproval in her tone.

He smiles at her.  “Yes, actually.”

She sighs.

“It's alright,” Natori tells her.  “This is where I want to be now.”  Cradled by a youkai, sitting in the grass next to Natsume, waiting for the sun to rise on a freezing New Year's Day.  It's strange, to want this, but not at all unpleasant.  He smiles at Hiiragi.

She watches him for a few seconds and then sighs again, settling in the grass some distance from Madara.  “Very well,” she says.  Natori's eyes begin to drift shut.  “I will wake you for the sunrise.”

“Thank you,” Natori says, and turns over slightly, pillowing his head on his hand to avoid a mouthful of Madara's fur.  He can see Natsume's profile in the faint predawn light; the boy is sleeping soundly, his mouth open, an innocent expression on his slack face.

Natori closes his eyes.  It's not a bad way to begin the year at all.

**Author's Note:**

> Watching the New Year's first sunrise (hatsu-hinode) is a traditional way to begin the New Year's celebrations.


End file.
